Stargazing
by Greece's-Catgirl-Minion
Summary: France kidnaps England and brings him to the countryside in order to...go stargazing! Warning there is fluff, yaoi and alternate universe where they aren't countries and are school students. Enjoy!


_**This baby just poofed into my mind the other day and I could not get it out of my mind no matter how much I tried -_-' So I hope you guys enjoy it**_

_**Disclaimer: I still don't own hetalia...no matter how much I wish otherwise **_

"What the bloody hell are we doing, Francis?" grumbled the disgruntled brit perched on the car bonnet.

"Mon cher, why must you always doubt me?" replied Francis, his hand clenched over his heart, feigning hurt.

"Because I bloody well know you, that's why." Arthur replied angrily. "Now explain to me why you dragged me out into the middle of a field when it looks like the heavens are about to open?"

"Mon ami, I already explained on the way over here, you were just too busy cursing my very beautiful face. But I shall reiterate for you." he said with a wink. The brit looked away muttering under his breath. "There is supposed to be a meteor shower tonight and I thought to myself 'Francis, who needs to loosen up and enjoy themselves?' and I came up with you."

Francis had dragged Arthur away from the student council meeting after school had finished and had left no room for Arthur's protests. The next few minutes found them driving down a country road at fifty miles an hour. Francis had parked his red citroen in the middle of an open field, something Arthur is sure was illegal, and then jumped out and lounged on the bonnet of the car, his back supported by the windscreen. He then forced Arthur onto the bonnet with him and that's how they found themselves now.

Arthur huffs a short soft breath and leans back against the windscreen. His head tilted up, looking at the sea of clouds flowing above his head. He shifts to look at Francis, his face turned away from him. It's dusk now, slowly slipping into night, the orange hues of the fading sun bathing the surrounding hinterland in its welcoming flames._ Francis looks surreal_, thinks Arthur to himself. A swift breeze picks up suddenly, the trees in the near distance waving at Arthur lazily, their branches swaying in friendly greeting.

Arthur shivers, goosebumps racing up his arms. _Damn, I left my blazer in my locker, _he thinks to himself silently cursing his own stupidity. Francis slides off the bonnet and retreates into the car. He returns a few moments later with a large wollen blanket that seems oddly familiar to Arthur.

"Oi! You kept that blanket I knitted you?" inquired Arthur, equally flattered and astounded.

"Well, mon cher, I keep it in the car for emergencies, it has no other useful purpose otherwise." answered Francis cheekily.

"You bloody frog!" Arthur roared as he began to hit the Frenchman. "I'll make you pay for insulting my knitting!"

"But mon cher, do not ask questions you don't want me to answer truthfully." Protested Francis while he attempted to defend his chest from Arthur's attack.

"I spent months on that bloody thing, I even hunted through more wool shops than I thought possible looking for the right shade to match-" Arthur abruptly stops that traitorous sentence before it could betray his unfortunate feelings for his frenemy.

Francis was quiet for several minutes after that which made Arthur pause, worried that the demented frog had finally realised his less than platonic feelings for him. He chanced a glance at Francis from where he sat. Francis's profile was only visible but it was obvious he was in deep contemplation. His delicate brow was slightly furrowed and his usually svelte features shrouded in the shadow of a thought. Arthur swiftly looked away again before Francis had a chance to realise he was blatantly staring at him.

They sat in the companionable silence for what must have been less than an hour but felt like more as both young men were consumed by their own musings. The last desperate tendrils of the orange sunlight slipping from the twilight sky to be consumed by the regal midnight blue in the far horizon, away from the ocean of clouds above the young mens' heads.

"This is our last year together. " Francis spoke, suddenly breaking the unspoken agreement not to speak.

"Huh" replied Arthur "I suppose it is." He feigned nonchalance, but in actuality that very thought had haunted his free moments. He was going to miss that git whether he liked it or not.

"I'll be going to college in France next Autumn and I assume you'll be returning to England to attend some prestigious university, am I right?" asked Francis, turning to face him for the first time since Arthur nearly slipped up.

"Yes, I am. My family have attended the school for generations and I don't intend to break the tradition." Arthur muttered, not happy with the sudden downturn in the conversation. The melancholic atmosphere dampening Arthur's mood considerably. "And I assume you'll attend a school in Paris where you'll drink bad wine and fratenise with women." Arthur said half jokingly hoping to lighten the mood.

Francis suddenly turns his head, silky blond hair creating a halo of white in the darkness. Arthur is startled by the unexpected movement jumping slightly, the blanket slipping from his shoulder. He stares up at Francis prepared to scold him for being so dramatic when the sight of his face forces the retort back down his throat. Francis's face is stricken, some unpleasant emotion skirting around the edges of his face. The emotion seems familiar and yet is unidentifiable. Arthur is surprised by the abrupt change in his friend's behaviour. He thinks back over his words, unsure as to what caused the change. There was nothing unusual about their friendly exchange of banter. Puzzled he goes to open his mouth to ask what is wrong but is stopped short by his friend.

"Is that what you think of me? That I'm some wine guzzling pervert?" demands Francis, his voice a controlled version of his rather flamboyant tones.

"Um.." Arthur replied articulately, stunned by the question. "Of course I don't think that" continued Arthur, "It was meant as a joke. You always say that I need to lighten up."

"Yes, Arthur but you wouldn't have said it unless you had thought it. People rarely say things that they have not thought before, if even subconsciously. "

"In all honestly, you do quite like your wine and France is famous for its wines so you can't fault my assumption there. And you are not exactly modest about your advances towards women, and men, and your reputation is infamous among our classmates. "

"So you think me nothing more than a pervert?"

"Francis, you reportedly went out with eight girls and one lad in one week last summer."

"Do you not see, Arthur? Perhaps you do not possess the need to share your life with someone but I do. I simply am searching for the right person. How am I to find this person without seeking them out? Without exploring all the possibilities, even if they seem like impossibilities? I would prefer to have earned an undesirable reputation than to live my life wondering if so-and-so was my soulmate, or whatever you wish to call it. Call me a hopeless romantic if you wish Arthur but that is how I feel. Besides, I never slept with any of those people no matter what the rumours might say to the contrary." Francis finished, slightly flushed but seemingly pleased that he had explained himself clearly.

Arthur sat there, mouth opened like a dead fish, unable to comprehend how abruptly the situation had changed. He was more pleased than he was happy to admit that Francis was a hopeless romantic. He felt as if he had a fair chance at winning Francis's heart now, despite his mind screaming at him that it was an impossibility. He took a moment to fully absorb the enormity of what had been confessed.

Suddenly, the clouds parted. The gap between the clouds a gateway into another world, into the eternity of the universe. The pinpricks of silver light in the bottomless expanse of black and swirling blues boasting of unchartered worlds and exciting adventures. The Moon, the queen of the night sky, shifts shyly from behind the dense clouds. She stretches her elegant arms down through the brief relief to embrace the world below. The rays chasing the shadows and bathing the quiet world in the white and silver tones of her light. The colours of the world drains, becomes paler in the bright moonlight.

"You know" Arthur whispers. He tilts his face into the welcoming light of the moon. He can feel the soft light embracing his feature, chasing anxiety and worry away to be replaced by calmness and relaxation. "I never thought you were a slut, or a pervert." he whispers honestly, voice soft as a gentle breeze.

Just as Arthur is about to confess some repressed feeling, the meteor shower begins. The flaming balls of inferno racing each other across the night sky leaving ribbons of fire behind them. They block out the other stars, seeking the attention of those lucky enough you play spectator to their blazing show. They disappear just as quickly as they appeared, continuing on their adventures across the skies. Before the last shooting star leaves the expanse of black Arthur says "Francis, don't forget to make a wish. But only one and we can't tell each other."

Arthur shuts his emerald eyes to focus on his wish. Arthur has always believed in the supernatural, despite people often bullying him for it in his youth. He even had several mystical friends during his youth, fondly remembering Flying Mint Bunny. He turns his face toward the moon. There is only one thing Arthur would like to wish for but by wishing for it he must climb out of his river of denial and face his true feelings for his friend lounging next to him. _I wish for, god this sounds pathetic, but I wish to be more than friends but if failing that for us to be friends like we are forever...dear lord I sound like a teenage girl, _thought Arthur, unwillingly blushing at the ridiculous thoughts. He ponders what Francis is wishing for, briefly wondering if it's the same thing that Arthur himself wished for. _Stop thinking about that bloody git! Where has it gotten you so far? In love with your best friend, that's where, _he thought, angry with himself for letting a blossom of hope bloom in his chest.

"Thank you, Francis, for taking me out here. Even if you are a bloody git, you have your moments." Arthur tells Francis quietly, not wanting to disrupt the peace, eyes still closed.

"I'm going to miss you next year, mon petit." answers Francis, completely ignoring the previous statement.

Arthur turns his head so that he's facing Francis. He's surprised to see Francis staring back at him, his cheeks sporting a rose tint and a small private smile gracing his features. For a moment Arthur is lost in the sight. Francis looks angelic in the white light, his face an unnaturally flawless paleness. His once golden hair bleached silver, somewhat resembling Gilbert's choppy locks. Francis stares back at Arthur, seemingly mesmerised by, what Arthur assumes, is his massive eyebrows that are no doubt glowing in the moonlight. A gentle wind picks up, playfully tossing their hair in its breeze.

Both boys lock eyes. The atmosphere is charged, tense as a coiled spring ready to burst, promising something unknown but eagerly awaited.

Suddenly, there is a shift in the air. Francis begins to tilt his head, leaning forward slightly. Arthur subconsciously tilts his head up, to meet Francis. They slowly move toward each other as if in a trance, the dreamlike state making them momentarily forget themselves. They move forward, their relationship on the precipice of an irreversible transformation.

Plop, plop, plop. An avalanche of icy water pours from the once again cloud filled sky, dragging them unwillingly out of their moment. They both start, shocked by the steely fingers of the water on their faces. They stare at each other, both fully aware of what had been about to happen and both in denial that the other had wanted such a thing from the other. Arthur looks away, knowing that his face must resemble one of Romano's precious tomatoes. He turns back to Francis, eye averted, unwilling to look him in the eye when he must think him such a fool.

"We best get out of the rain, don't want to catch a cold." Arthur mumbles, yet it sounds like shouting to him after the silence of a moment ago. He glances up at Francis only to find him looking down at him, a strange expression dancing across his face. Arthur doesn't waste time trying to decipher the unusual expression. He glances away just as quickly and turns to slip off the bonnet, already thinking of how destroyed his shoes and the ends of his trousers are going to be after the short walk to the car.

Suddenly he feels a warm hand grasp his wrist. He falters, glancing over his shoulder to find Francis staring intently at him with eyes filled with a sense of purpose. Arthur feels himself slightly pull away from Francis, yet his body is telling him to lean into the touch. Francis tightens his grip when he feels Arthur trying to pull away.

"I'm not letting you run away from this, Arthur." Says Francis roughly.

Arthur is too stunned by Francis using his actual name to foresee the next events unfolding. Francis tilts his head slightly to the right and his eyes slowly start to close as a raindrop rolls down his pale cheek. Arthur unconsciously follows his actions, eyes closing when their lips meet. Francis's lips are surprisingly soft, notes Arthur, must be due to all the lip balm he insists upon wearing. He feels Francis's tongue rub against his lip, asking for access. Arthur opens his lips at the gentle request and soon Francis's tongue is exploring his mouth. After that the kissing intensifies.

After several minutes, Arthur pulls away in order to take a very deep breath, filling his lungs with much needed oxygen. He gazes up at Francis, only to find him too gasping for breath as well and looking at him with an expression of wonder.

"Arthur, where did you learn to kiss like that?" Francis asks in a semi mesmerised voice.  
>" I don't know what you mean, I have never learned to kiss anywhere." Replies Arthur curtly. <p>

Francis leans over to kiss him again, but hesitates before kissing him.  
>"I like you, Arthur" he says then kisses Arthur with a gentleness that speaks of the fondness he has for the young brit next to him. Arthur, shocked by the confession, fails to respond to the kiss for a second before his mind catches up with him and he proceeds to kiss Francis senseless.<p>

"I like you too, you bloody git" shouts Arthur, overjoyed that his unrequited feels are actually reciprocated. "But as much as I'd love to continue this, we really should get out of the rain and head home, we do have school tomorrow you know." Finishes Arthur with a little nod of his head. He goes to move off the car but he feels Francis's hand still holding his wrist.  
>"Um, Francis, you're still holding my wrist..I can't move" Mumbles Arthur, embarrassed.<br>"Oh! Sorry, mon cher." Replies Francis as he lets go. 

They both retreat into the car, fleeing the attack of the rain. Francis starts up the engine, hands on the steering wheel. Arthur settles into the passenger seat, trying to dry himself off but failing miserably. Francis starts to move the car, the headlights illuminating the road ahead. The lights from the dashboard lighting up Francis's face. Half way through the drive Francis slides his hand over to Arthur, and Arthur takes it. They sit like that the entire drive back home, in a comfortable silence, both content with the other's company.

_**Thank you guys for reading! Favourite and comment if you liked it, any and all feedback is appreciated :3 Sorry it's taken me so long to post another fic, I've just been swamped with stuff recently -_-' Anyways, thanks for reading and don't forget to fave or comment! Bye bye! ^_^ **_


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